Love in the Storm
by xVampirexElegancex
Summary: When Mercy finds a mysterious stranger injured and in need of her help, she learns what unconditional love really means.


_Hello, my loves! I've been working on this story since about February, and about a month ago, I finally FINALLY got it published on Tumblr. You might have seen it on THFrustrations or Naughty Loki Confessions. Anyway, thought I'd post it here just so you guys know I'm still here. :)_

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"One…two..three…"

A peal of thunder boomed high above the drenched suburban neighborhood, drowning out the triumphant exclamation of a young woman who stood on the steps of her porch, letting the rain pour down on her. An indelible smile stretched her generous mouth wide, her green eyes bright with joy, one slender hand pressed to her chest. Mercy McAlister never felt more alive than when she stood and watched the undeniable power of an ordinary thunderstorm. Every bolt of lightning that split the dark sky seemed to continue its electric current through her veins; each clap of thunder rattled in her chest, making her heart race with adrenaline. The insistent drumming of the rain on the roof, on the sidewalk and street, was as fulfilling as music to her, and each cool drop as it hit her skin brought invigoration and refreshment. She knew it wasn't safe to be outside in such weather, but she simply couldn't help herself. Mercy lived for storms.

A brilliant flash lit the world for the briefest instant, illuminating her grin as she began to count the seconds between light and sound. "One…two…"

A full second sooner than before, the thunder came, shaking the glass in her windows and coaxing an exhilarated laugh from her. "God, it's moving fast." She pulled her jacket tighter around her, taking a deep breath and savoring the scent of wet pavement and damp grass. Another jagged bolt of lightning brightened the night, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw something revealed by the purplish light. Something that moved. Mercy gasped, fear surging hotly through her as she turned to see what approached. It was a man who appeared to be attempting to run despite a nasty limp in his right leg. He was soaked through, long hair hanging in strings, sticking to the sides of his face and neck. One hand was held to his left side, as if he had a stitch, but still he did not stop. The toe of his boot hit a crack in the black tarmac, and he fell to his hands and knees with a pained shout, the sound quickly overtaken by the loudest thunderclap yet. Mercy swore and without thinking twice, she bolted off her porch and into the rain, racing to the injured man's side. She dropped to her knees and put her hand on his shoulder, and at her touch, the stranger jerked back, head whipping up as he stared at her, his forest green eyes bright with pain, panic, and fear.

"Hey, calm down, sweetie. It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you. Are you alright?"

The man shook his head, bedraggled hair swinging from side to side. "He's angry."

"Who is?" The man only shook his head again, wincing as he tried to sit up. Mercy shook her sodden curls out of her face, trying to get a better look at him. The hand that he'd been holding to his side was stained and slick with blood, and the sight of it made her throat close up. "God, what happened to you?"

He stared at her blankly, as if she had been speaking a language unknown to him. Thunder rolled through the ominous black clouds, just as loud but somehow more wrathful than before .The man's chest heaved as he drew in a fearful breath, his head lifting as he looked up, as if sensing danger. "He's coming for me."

Mercy saw how frightened this stranger was, how hurt and scared, and instinct took over, her protective nature rising to the surface. "He's not going to get you, okay? Look, my house is right over there. We're going to get you in out of the rain and take a look at you, alright?" She pulled his left arm gingerly over her shoulder, then eased him back onto his feet. He was quite a bit taller than her, but she wrapped a securing arm around his waist, encouraging him to lean on her to keep his weight off of his injured leg. Slowly, the two began hobbling back to the modest white structure that Mercy called home. He was heavy, though he was of a slender build, but she bore him admirably, enabling him to hop on his left foot.

Once inside, Mercy carefully sat him on the couch, then switched on the overhead lights. Easing out from under his arm, she murmured, "I'm going to go get you a towel, and then we'll have a look at you, okay?"

The man nodded, closing his eyes as he leaned forward, still holding his side, and took a slow, rallying breath. Mercy dashed to the bathroom and pulled a clean, folded towel from the linen closet. As an afterthought, she ran warm water over a washcloth and carried it with her back into the living room. "Here we go," she whispered, laying the towel over his shoulders and squeezing the excess water from the ends of his hair. "Okay. Lean back and we'll see what's up with your side."

With a groan, the stranger did so, his Adam's apple bobbing as his throat worked. Her touch soft, Mercy peeled his hand way and pushed up the long, tunic-like shirt he wore. She hissed as she saw the gash in his side, still oozing blood. Gingerly, she dabbed at it with the washcloth, apologizing when he flinched. "Okay…it's not that bad. It's pretty shallow, it won't even need stitches." Pulling his shirt back down, she looked up at him and gave him a reassuring smile, which was met with only a deadpan stare. Though the emotionless gaze unnerved her a bit, she reasoned that he'd just been through something awful, and a little bit of solemnity was perfectly acceptable. As she carefully pulled his right boot off, she decided that despite his circumstances, he was definitely handsome. He had high, sculpted cheekbones, a defined jaw, and a rather pointy chin; his skin was fair, and his piercing green eyes were a vivid contrast to his inky-black hair. When she'd lifted his shirt to inspect his wound, she'd glimpsed a lean but toned torso, smooth skin over taut muscle. Blushing a bit, she squeezed his ankle lightly. "Does this hurt?"

The man shook his head, placing his hand on his thigh. "No. Here."

Mercy nodded, then slowly ran her hand up the weakened limb, methodically squeezing until he cried out, muttering something that sounded like a curse. "Sorry." She pursed her lips, flicking her gaze up to his face, then back down at his leg. "Okay, in order to get a good look at your leg, I'm going to need to pull your pants down just a little. Is that okay?"

A silent nod granted her permission, and the young woman thought she saw the shadow of a smile flicker on his face. With as much detachment as she could produce, she eased his trousers past his slender hips, giving a silent prayer of thanks that the tail of his shirt was long enough to cover his groin.

"God," she exhaled as she saw the enormous, angry-looking bruise that covered most of his outer thigh, an ugly stain of blue, black, and purple on otherwise unblemished skin. Softly, Mercy pressed her fingers against it, and he hissed, showing two perfect rows of white teeth. "Sorry, sorry." She sighed, chewing on her lip. "I don't think it's broken, you wouldn't have been able to put any weight on it if it was. Maybe a hairline fracture, I don't know. They can give you an X-ray at the hospital, and-"

"No." Those verdant eyes were fixed intently on her, his stare conveying a sense of urgency that puzzled her. "No hospitals."

"There's not a whole lot I can do for you here, sweetie." She made to stand, but he grabbed her wrist, his hold firm but not painful. He caught her eyes again, and though they were still hard and enigmatic, behind some veneer she thought she saw panic, pleading, and fear. It wrenched at her heart to think of him so scared and so afraid to admit it, so she knelt again and took his hand in both of hers, smiling gently. "Okay. No hospitals."

The tension in his face relaxed slightly, and he nodded. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," she muttered with a dry smile. "Can you tell me your name?"

He stared at her for a few moments, and she could almost hear the gears turning in his head, as if he were struggling to remember. Or perhaps he was coming up with a believable alias. Finally, he muttered, "Loki."

She grinned, not caring that it was probably the first name that popped into his head. "That's a really cool name. Like the Norse god of mischief, right?"

With a humorless smile, he murmured, "Exactly like the Norse god of Mischief."

Mercy blinked, a tiny bit confused by his suddenly bitter tone. To change the subject, she cleared her throat and stood. "I'm going to go get you some dry clothes, I'll be right back." Resisting the urge to look behind her, she retreated into her bedroom, shaking her head and whispering, "What the hell is with this guy?" Distractedly combing the snarls from her tangled hair, she began sifting through her drawers, periodically holding up an article of clothing, guessing his size as best she could. Finally, she slung a pair of black sweats and a white T-shirt with the name of a local university written on the front over her arm and re-entered the living room. "The pants might be a little short, but otherwise, these should work alright for now." She laid them in his hands with a smile, but when she caught his gaze again, her smile fell.

"Why are you doing this?" His words were hushed, not accusatory but strangely confused, as if her actions were incomprehensible to him.

Now puzzled herself, Mercy replied, "Doing what?"

"You sheltered me. You brought me in from the storm. You tended to me. Why?" Now a small hint of accusation crept into his voice, hardening his expression. "What are you hoping to gain?"

"Gain?" Shaking her head, she sat down next to him. "I'm not trying to gain anything from you. You needed my help, so I'm doing everything I can to help you." Taking a chance, she took his cold hand in hers, giving it a soft squeeze. She didn't know what it was, but something about this unreadable stranger tugged at her heartstrings. It was as if he hadn't known a day of kindness in his entire life. Mercy wished that she could do more, anything to heal the hurt she saw in his eyes, but it was apparently that Loki, whoever he was, did not trust her.

His hand was stiff within hers at first, rigid and unresponsive to her touch. After a moment, he relaxed, even tightening his fingers around hers. "May I ask what you were doing outside in the middle of a storm?"

"Oh." She smiled bashfully and dropped her gaze into her lap. "I love thunderstorms, I always have. When I was a kid, I learned that you can tell how far away a storm is by counting the seconds between the lightning and the thunder. There's some formula that goes with it, but I forgot what it was. So every time there's a thunderstorm, I go stand outside and count the seconds, just out of habit."

He looked puzzled, but eventually, the first hint of a genuine smile appeared on his handsome face, and he murmured, "You're an odd little creature."

That coaxed a small laugh from her. "I'll take that as a compliment." She glanced up at him, then back down to where her hand cradled his considerably larger one. There was something inscrutable about him, like looking into a two-way mirror. You knew there was something on the other side, but no matter how hard or how long you stared, you couldn't catch a glimpse of it. Mercy wanted badly to help him, to break through his cold, mistrustful shell and see what had scared him so terribly. If kindness couldn't do it, she decided, then nothing would. "Loki…can you tell me what happened?"

Any trace of a smile that remained instantly vanished. "I don't think you would understand."

"Believe me, sweetie, I can handle a lot more than you think." When he only shook his head, Mercy squeezed his hand. "Can you at least tell me who hurt you?"

It was eerily silent for a few seconds before he finally relented and sighed, "My brother."

The young woman's back stiffened slightly; from the look of him, she'd imagined it had been a group of people. "What'd he do, hit you with a car?"

"Not exactly."

The implication that someone could have savaged this man with his bare hands fanned her growing indignation into livid flames. Her lips were taut with anger as she muttered, "Where does he live?"

Loki turned his head toward her, his brow furrowing. "Why?"

"Because I'm going to call the cops on his ass."

To her fury, Loki looked almost _amused_ by this. "That would do you no good. He is beyond the law, I'm afraid."

"Oh, screw that," she groaned. "He hurt you. He scares you." Her tone was hard, insistent, and quite unlike the gentle voice she'd used before. "Running away will only piss him off, and you'll be running forever. If he locked up, he can't come after you."

"You don't understand," he countered, realizing how serious she was. "You don't know who my brother is, do you?"

"I don't give a damn who he is!" For the first time, Mercy raised her voice, too furious to care. "Look at what he did to you. Why are you protecting him, why are you letting him get away with it?"

Loki's expression was unreadable as he stared at her. "How much do you know about Norse mythology?"

Her train of thought came to a screeching halt at this sudden and bizarre change of topic. She blinked, trying to put together a coherent answer. "Um…a little. I studied it for a while when I was in middle school, but I've lost most of the details since then."

"What can you recall?"

A tiny crease appeared between her eyes as she bit at her lip, struggling to remember the legends she had once known by heart. "I remember Odin…he was kind of the father god. Like the Norse equivalent of Zeus." Mercy glanced at him for confirmation, and he gave a short nod, his lips pressed into a thin line. "And he had a lot of sons. There was Thor, of course, and Balder, who died…" She smiled at him. "And Loki."

"That's more or less correct." Loki sat back, and now his eyes seemed to be searching hers, as if she were the unreadable one and he were searching for the first light of dawning comprehension. "And I assume you know about the recent attack on New York City?"

Her mind was reeling; just where was he going with this? "Not a whole lot, actually. This is kind of the sticks, so news doesn't really travel out here. I know that aliens attacked and wiped out a good chunk of downtown Manhattan, and that some small, specialized group from an obscure government section stopped them. They were supposed to be superheroes, but…" As suddenly as a switch being flipped in her mind, her eyes widened. "Wasn't there a guy named Thor on that team?"

"Indeed there was." Loki's eyes, two shades darker than emeralds but just as hard, were fixed resolutely on her, as if he could convince her by the power of his stare alone. "That is my brother. Thor Odinson, god of thunder. Not myth, not legend."

Mercy was completely still, completely silent with shock, her mind frantically fighting to catch up and understand what he'd just told her. "You're…you're saying that he's the_actual_ Thor?" Loki nodded, and the young woman tried to swallow, her mouth abruptly as dry as a desert. "So…that would make you…"

"Loki. The Trickster. Silvertongue. God of mischief and deceit." He announced his titles with a sort of bitter pride, as if they had once been illustrious but had become tarnished somehow.

Mercy let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. "Okay…" There came a sudden urge to pull her hand from the alleged god's grasp, but she feared that this would only anger him. She couldn't move, could barely breathe. What was his game? What kind of lunatic had she let into her home? Raising her free hand in a placating gesture, she said as calmly as possible, "This is a lot to take in. You realize that this is extremely hard for me to believe, right? I've grown up believing that you don't exist outside of legends." Loki nodded, but his eyes darkened just the slightest bit. Choosing her words carefully, her stomach clenching with dread, Mercy continued. "Is there anything you can do that would prove that you're…who you say you are?"

A rather feline smirk curled on his lips, and he leaned back into the couch, stretching out his lean torso. "Take another look at my side, if you doubt me." She was almost afraid to get closer, but she took a deep breath and lifted up his shirt. Her jaw dropped as her eyes flew wide, gasping as she registered that the wound was gone, with only a drying smudge of blood to tell that it had ever been there.

"Oh my God," she breathed, leaning closer to inspect the area. Loki's jaw tightened a fraction as he felt her warm breath on his skin. "There isn't even a scar."

He grinned and pushed gently on her shoulder, sitting her back so he could stand. He removed his tunic, tossing it carelessly to the floor, then without a pause, he let his trousers fall to the ground as well. Loki smirked as he heard her squeak of embarrassment, turning her face away from him as he pulled on the pants she had brought him. They were made of a strange material, soft and warm, and he sighed comfortably as he tugged the shirt she'd brought him over his head. Once he was clothed, he sat back down on the couch beside her. "If you'd looked, you would have seen that my leg had been healed as well." He sat back, quite pleased with himself. "I've been mending them with magic this entire time."

Mercy pressed a hand to her mouth, perhaps to conceal how it was shaking. "Oh my God," she repeated, as if she was too stunned to say anything else.

"If you need further proof," Loki purred as he leaned forward and grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand away from her mouth and turning it palm-up. Without warning, a tiny orange flame sprang to life in her hand, the flickering light playing across both of their faces. Mercy instinctively tried to pull her hand back, but Loki held it fast. "No, be still. It won't hurt you." Indeed, though the fire sat atop her skin, she only felt a slight, rather pleasant warmth, as if someone were pressing a kiss into her palm. Once the initial alarm had passed, her eyes reflected the light of the flame, expressing a sort of breathless wonder at this magical display. Not only did this prove he was a god, that he was _Loki_…this proved that he wasn't crazy. He wasn't a nut-job. She knew that she should still be afraid of him, that he could still hurt her very easily, but somehow, she wasn't. All she felt was relief.

"Wow."

The flame vanished, but Loki didn't release her hand. "You see, my dear?"

She nodded slowly, still a little bit stupefied by his dizzying show of proof. "Yeah, I think I get it." Slowly, her awed expression seemed to melt into a look of confusion. "But….why is Thor after you?"

Loki sighed and let go of her hand. "I suppose you have no idea who led the attacks, do you?"

She shook her head. "I just assumed it was the alien leader or king or general or whatever."

His eyes fell to the ground, as if he was disappointed or discouraged, and Mercy found that she didn't like it when his head was bowed. "I thought as much. You would not have given me refuge if you knew." Taking a deep breath as if to steel his nerves, Loki clenched his hands into fists. "I was the one leading the attack. The death, the destruction…it was all my doing."

Mercy didn't say anything for several long, aching moments, feeling as if the air had been sucked from the room, her expression blank save for the slight tension at the corners of her mouth. Finally, she whispered, "I don't understand."

"I was blinded by my hatred, my anger…my resentment and pride. They consumed me." He sat forward, his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together, and Mercy noticed with a pang of compassion that his knuckles were white. "I fell from Asgard some time ago, off the bridge and into a void. I was lost in a darkness so deep and black that any hope of redemption, any light of salvation was smothered, extinguished." His voice had become little more than a murmur now. "I despaired of ever escaping that terrible emptiness, but something-someone-pulled me out."

Mercy noticed the slight tense of his shoulders as a bad memory stirred. "Who?"

Loki only shook his head, as if he dared not speak the name aloud. "He fueled my bitterness, gave me the tools I needed to exact my grand scheme for dominion over this realm, for vengeance against Thor and the world he loves so dearly." The human woman couldn't be sure, but she thought he heard his voice crack, the sound hastily covered up as he cleared his throat. "My plan thwarted, Thor was to take me back to Asgard to face justice for my crimes. Just as we began the journey home, I found a chink in the shackles that blocked my magic. I broke loose of the streams and landed here. Thor followed. We struggled-"

"That's where the bruise and the cut came from," Mercy interrupted.

"Yes. A blow from his hammer and a lightning strike." He pressed a hand to the side that had been wounded. "They were far worse before I happened upon you."

Mercy nodded, nibbling at her lip. "That's why it's storming, isn't it? Because he's angry…and to cover up the sound of you two fighting."

Loki nodded. "Strange, that something that brings you so much joy should spring from such rage."

The young woman let out a long breath through her nose, her lips pressed together and her eyes cast down at her hands. "So what now? What's your plan?"

He sighed. "All I ask is a head start."

"Head start?" Her brow furrowed. "I don't understand; do you think I'm going to turn you in?"

Loki turned to her, their eyes locking. "Aren't you?"

Mercy angled her body toward him, drawing her legs up onto the couch and folding them. She reached out and grabbed Loki's hands, which were still unnaturally cold, and drew them into her lap, rubbing her thumbs across his knuckles. "No. I'm not." Two shades of green burned into each other, one searching for any hint of deception and the other determined to prove her honesty. "Loki, when you're here, you're safe. Okay? I'm not going to turn you out or give you up to the guy who hurt you so badly, who scares you so much." A small, almost tender smile appeared on her face, and Loki felt himself weaken. "You may be a god, but that doesn't mean I won't protect you if you need it."

Amazed that he found no trace of deceit in her eyes or in her voice, and stunned at her remarkable compassion, Loki felt his throat tighten. "Why? Why would you do this when you know what I am, what I've done?"

She squeezed his hands insistently. "I was always taught that people deserve second chances, and as far as I'm concerned, you're no different. I'd do the same for anyone else. You're no less deserving of a little kindness."

"You do know that if it's discovered that you've sheltered me, the consequences will be dire."

"I don't care. I'll have done what I know is right."

Slowly, a smile curved on Loki's lips. "You're an extraordinary young woman, my dear."

Blushing sweetly, she looked down, as if embarrassed by his praise. "Thanks."

Pulling one hand form her grasp, Loki gently crooked two fingers under her chin, lifting her face back up. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure of knowing your name."

"Oh!" Her cheeks burned and even brighter shade of red. "I'm sorry. I'm Mercy. Mercy McAlister."

Loki gave a short laugh. "Mercy. It suits you." He brought her hand to his mouth and softly pressed his lips to her knuckles. "A pleasure to meet you, dear girl." He had to suppress a groan at the delectable warmth of her skin against his mouth, his kiss lingering perhaps longer than it should have.

Mercy gave a small, almost inaudible gasp at the press of his mouth against her hand. "Your lips are so cold." She quickly stood, perhaps in an attempt to disguise how that little kiss had flustered her beneath a mothering air. "I hope it's not hypothermia. Let me get you a blanket-"

Loki grabbed her wrist as she started from the room, holding her back and cutting her off. "I'm not ill, Mercy." She looked down at him, and there was some darkness in his eyes that hadn't been there before, some shadow that she didn't like. "Sit down."

Mercy did so, settling back down on the cushion, positioning herself a bit closer to him than she had previously. "Loki, what's wrong?"

This time, Loki folded her hand in his, as if he expected his words to upset her. "In your studies, did you ever come across the legends of the Frost Giants?"

"Um…" She trailed off, thinking hard. "I think so. I don't really remember much…but they were enemies of Asgard, weren't they?"

Loki nodded. "Yes. The Frost Giants came to Midgard-your world- with the intention of unleashing another ice age upon your people. The Allfather and his armies drove them back to the frozen recesses of Jotunheim, and after the battle was over, Odin took two trophies." His voice became distant and cold, his features hard and masked. "He took the source of their power, the Casket of Ancient Winters…" Loki paused, as if this was a difficult tale to tell. "…and a baby."

"A baby?"

A stiff nod. "The son of the Jotun king, abandoned and left to die in the temple."

Suddenly, the pieces fell into place, and Mercy understood with a sickening flood of horror. "Oh, Loki…" She squeezed his hand. "You?" The lowering of his head was all the confirmation she needed, and her heart ached deep within her chest, the sudden wrenching almost bringing tears to her eyes.

"He brought me back to Asgard not out of pity…but for politics. I was to be nothing more than a shining relic, a living testament to his glory. And he disguised his greed as compassion. He called me his son. He let me believe a lie for so long…" Loki swallowed hard, anger rising in his eyes to merge with the pain.

Mercy's throat grew unbearably tight, her eyes burning with tears, and without thinking, she slid her arms around his middle and laid her forehead against his shoulder, embracing him as best she could despite their awkward angle. "Oh sweetie, I'm so sorry." The dark-haired god stiffened as her warmth pressed against his side. This odd little human who had not only given refuge to a stranger but to a dangerous fugitive, who knew of his parentage and of the monster that had sired him…was _holding_ him. Comforting him. She knew what he was, yet she was not afraid or repulsed. Mercy had not pushed him away, but drawn him closer, and this confused and startled the outcast prince. After several seconds of silence, she muttered in a voice thick with numerous emotions, "That explains it, I guess."

Loki looked down at her; or rather, at the top of her head. At the moment, she had her face down, hidden against his arm. "Explains what?"

"Why you're so cold. If you were born a frost giant, your skin would naturally be cooler than mine."

He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her back so he could see her face. "Mercy, don't you understand? I'm a monster."

Taking him by surprise, the young woman reached out and touched his face; her hand was soft, so warm against his cheek, and he bit back a sigh. "No. Sweetie, you're not a monster. Where you're from doesn't make you what you are."

"Do you not comprehend the sort of evil creatures they were? The Jotuns almost wiped out your people."

"And that was how many thousands of years ago? Anyway, it's not them we're talking about. It's you." That tender smile appeared again. "You're not like them, Loki. You're not heartless." Her thumb stroked hypnotically along his cheekbone, back and forth like a pendulum. "I've given you plenty of opportunities to hurt me tonight. And you haven't. If you wanted to, you would have done it already. If you were truly a monster, you would hurt me just because I'm smaller and weaker than you." Her eyebrows arched, her eyes knowing and yet hopeful. "I have a feeling that you don't want to hurt me."

The small shake of his head didn't dislodge her hand from his cheek. "No, Mercy. I don't wish to harm you, nor will I ever." Almost as if it had a will of its own, his hand rose and covered hers, pressing her palm to his cheek. For a long moment, neither of them spoke, and Loki took the time to study this strange, tender-hearted human. She didn't seem like much at first, appearing to be rather plain and underwhelming. But with her soft round cheeks rosy with the sweetest of blushes and her kind green eyes peering timidly up at him from beneath her lashes, she had an innocence about her that brought some allure to her features. Yet despite her girlish purity, she had the body of a woman; not at all like the slim, elfin beauties of Asgard, but with softer, fuller curves. And when she smiled so gently at him, like he was beloved of her heart, he felt his own stony heart weaken. Loki felt the growing need to kiss her, to feel the warmth of her soul through her lips, to taste the sweetness of her smile. Letting out a slow, deep breath, he muttered, "Your husband is a very lucky man, to have a woman like you by his side."

"Husband?" Her cheeks turned red, and she gave an embarrassed little laugh. "Oh, that's sweet that you think I'm married."

"You have no husband, then?" His thin lips curled in a smirk that teased, yet was just the smallest bit hopeful. "No jealous lover to pose an intrusion?"

"No," she giggled, looking down. "I'm about as unattached as I can get."

"Good," he purred, turning his head to press his lips into her palm. "One less thing to worry about." Her cheeks reddened again, and he noted that the muscles in her arm had tensed, as if she were preparing to pull her hand away. He'd made her nervous, though she wasn't quite skittish enough to move back. Unable to ignore his growing curiosity, Loki asked, "Forgive me for being forward, but how long has it been since you've had a lover?"

Her eyes widened, and Loki could have sworn he heard her choke. "E-Excuse me?"

He quirked an eyebrow, as if to say, _You heard me._

"Um…" She gave an anxious laugh, keeping her gaze firmly fixed on the floor. "Well, if you're asking me what I think you're asking me, and I think you are…" She trailed off, reluctant to tell him the truth. "Never."

"Never? His brows arched, and he felt his spirits sink a bit; this would certainly complicate things. "No one has ever made love to you?"

Mercy was certain that if she blushed any harder, she would set the house on fire. "Nope."

Not to be thrown off-course for long, Loki trailed his fingertips along her cheek, twining his fingers in her still-damp hair, which was silken to the touch. "May I be so bold as to ask why?" He smirked as he saw her begin to tremble, her breath coming just a bit faster. "Surely Midgardian men are not so blind that they cannot see how lovely you are."

She swallowed hard, unconsciously leaning her face into his hand, and he wondered if a man had ever touched her like this before. "It's…it's not that I haven't had offers, though granted, not many." Mercy took a steadying breath, her hands fidgeting restlessly in her lap. "But those guys…they all wanted me for the wrong reasons."

Loki edged closer to her, and to his satisfaction, she didn't pull back. He was close enough to smell her now; a hint of something sweet and vaguely floral, and underneath, some dark exotic spice he could not name. Delicious. Pure seduction. "What reasons would those be?"

"Um…" She was having a very hard time keeping her thoughts in order with him only inches away. When was the last time she'd even been this close to another person? "I've, um…I've always been a hopeless romantic. To me, sex shouldn't just be a physical thing; it should be driven by emotions. By the heart. Sex without love is just…empty. There should be trust and affection and passion…" She looked down at her hands, trying to hide how much even the thought of making love with him was affecting her. "Everyone that's asked me has only wanted sex. I was only a means to an end. I deserve better than that."

Loki's fingers, which had been lazily twisting a curl of her hair, stopped dead. That certainly explained why she was untouched, but it also meant that he could never have her unless he took her by force. The thought alone, of seeing her terrified of him, hating him, disgusted by him, made him sick. He couldn't do it. Mercy was right; she deserved better than empty words and emotionless embraces. But if it was love she wanted, she wouldn't find it with him. With a sigh, he drew back, sitting at a more respectable distance. "An admirable ideal indeed." His eyes trailed down her body, then bounced back up to her face. "And a pity. I would have liked to have had the honor of being your first lover."

Mercy was shocked into silence for several moments, trying desperately to process what Loki had said. He wanted her…but why? Men like him never looked twice at girls like her, who hid themselves inside loose clothing and avoided making eye contact. To make matters worse, he was exactly the type of guy she was most attracted to. Long dark hair, light eyes, tall, slender but toned, with long artistic hands and powerful legs. He had a sleek, cunning air about him, as if he were always thinking, always scheming, which gave the impression of searing intelligence. Not to mention his deep, smoky voice that could soothe and seduce all at once; a voice well-suited for Shakespeare or even Yeats. He was everything she wanted, but she was used to men like that being only a fantasy, a dream. Yet, he had very clearly told her that for whatever reason, he wanted her too. He wanted her, but would not take her. Because of her principle of wanting sex to be more about love than hormones? Mercy had a feeling that a woman's misgivings hadn't exactly stopped him before; all the lore she remembered about Loki said that he had an insatiable sexual appetite. What was it about her that made him hold back? Breaking the increasingly tense silence, she muttered, "Just out of curiosity, why do you think you can't be my first?"

Loki took her hand, turning it over and studying the lines on her palm, as if he could divine an answer from them. "You are a strange young woman. Unique." He smiled gently. "You deserved to be cherished, to be shown pleasure beyond description. You deserve to be kissed deeply, held closely, caressed softly." He raised his head, and though a playful smirk curled on his lips, it didn't quite dispel the shadows in his eyes. "This I could give you in abundance. However," his smile fell as his gaze dropped again, "you also deserve to be loved, and that is something I am afraid I cannot give."

Mercy's lips pressed into a taut line, and hardly believing her own daring, she whispered, "Can't or won't?"

Green eyes narrowed at the human girl. "I beg your pardon?"

She sighed but avoided his piercing gaze. "There's a difference between being unable to love and not allowing yourself to love because you're afraid of being hurt." As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted speaking them. He was a prince, after all; a god. It was unlikely that he was used to being spoken to this way, especially by those he considered beneath him. Like her. Mercy let out a breath she'd been holding, lowering her head contritely and studying her hands. "I'm sorry. I have no idea of what you've been through, of what you've seen…and God knows I couldn't imagine the sort of pain you've had to endure." When he remained silent, she reached forward and took his hands in hers, still not daring to look up and face him. "But every being-human, Asgardian, Jotun, whatever- is capable of love. I believe that with all my heart." Her voice was hushed, broken with her fervency, and her grip on his hands grew insistent, almost pleading, as if begging him to understand her. "No matter what you think of yourself, you're worthy of love, and you're capable of loving others in return." Her thumb stroked over his knuckles, conveying a kind of comfort that words alone couldn't provide. "You deserve to be loved, Loki. More than anyone I've ever known." Shadows shifted subtly in the soft lamplight as she swallowed. "And if I can give you what you deserve, then I won't turn my back on you. If I can show you what you should have known all along, then I will, without question."

Her speech concluded, she held her breath as Loki pulled his hands from hers, praying that he couldn't see how her cheeks burned with sudden shame. Who was she to say such things to him? He was the god of magic, the Trickster, and she…she was nothing. A common human woman with no worth to speak of. How presumptuous she was to think for a moment that he would want her love, no matter how it was given. Mercy wished she could disappear, could evaporate into the air never to be seen again…when suddenly she felt a cool hand cup her face as lips that were softer than she expected touched her forehead. Loki brought her head up so he could see her properly, and a flood of relief overtook her as she saw that his jewel-bright eyes were soft with something that could be affection. "You would abandon your beliefs for my sake?"

She gave a minute shake of her head. "I'm not abandoning anything. I'm showing you that I have faith in you, Loki. I believe that this," she drew her hand from her lap and placed it on his chest, directly over his heart, "is not dead. You are not made of stone. Your heart trembles just like mine." Indeed, she could feel it beating against her palm, out of sync with hers but harmonious just the same. "This won't be the love that you find in fairy tales and old books, but it's real, and I can give it freely."

Loki leaned toward her, so close that he could feel her warmth like gentle sunlight, and ran his thumb along the curve of her lower lip. "Are you certain, dear one, that this is truly what you want?" He kept his voice from shaking, but only just. "I can be rather…demanding, and I should hate to break you." The words he spoke were light, even jovial, but she could see as well as feel the very real apprehension in his eyes and in his heart. Loki was truly worried that he would hurt her, and in a misguided attempt to be a gentleman, he was giving her a chance to back out. But there was no going back. Not now. Mercy leaned into him, tilting her head back so she could keep him in her sights.

"You won't hurt me, Loki, and you're not going to frighten me away that easily." A slight smile touched her lips, coy and unlike the gentle creature he'd become acquainted with. "Besides, I'm more durable than I look. I can handle whatever you have to give me." Small white teeth tugged at pink lips as she saw her double entendre sink in, a mischievous gleam sparkling to life in crystalline eyes.

A smirk flickered like a flame on his lips at her boldness, his fingers curling beneath her chin to keep her face at the perfect angle. "In that case," he purred, "I should like to give you a kiss."

"What's stopping you?" The words were barely out of her mouth when his lips sealed it shut, the kiss soft and explorative, roving and tasting while she adjusted to him. Her muscles tensed at first, not sure how to respond, but within seconds, she relaxed, winding one arm around his neck and pulling him closer while her other hand was crushed between her chest and his. As she breathed in his smell-a dark, woodsy aroma that she couldn't name-her head began to swim. She felt surrounded by him, enveloped in pure sensation, and for the first time in a long time, true joy swelled within her. A small moan couldn't be helped as Loki's teeth grazed her lower lip beseechingly, coaxing her mouth open so he could slip his tongue inside. It had been ages since she had been properly kissed, and even the last encounter paled in comparison to this.

A strong arm curled around her waist, dragging her against him as long fingers tangled in her wild curls. She was even softer than he'd imagined her to be, warm and pliant under his hands. It would be hard for him to take his time with her, to hold back his rougher passions and be gentle, but for her sake, he would manage. Slowly, he pulled on her tresses, tilting her head back to expose the tempting curve of her throat. Mercy shuddered with pleasure in his arms as lips that had been warmed by the heat of their kiss pressed against her pulse. Delicate fingers curled against his chest, clutching the thin fabric of his borrowed shirt as his hand found bare skin, the friction of his fingertips tantalizing against her side. Loki pulled back a fraction and grinned, his moderately accelerated breath like the teasing brush of feathers on her lips. "Do you shiver from the cold?" His hand moved like a whisper across her stomach, and she stifled a soft, lustful sound. "Or is it my touch that makes you tremble?"

Mercy struggled to untie her tongue. "Um…it's a little of both." With an amused huff of laughter, Loki disentangled himself from her arms and got to his feet, not missing the young woman's whine as their bodies grew distant. Still grinning, he held out his hand to her.

"We'd best get you out of these wet things then, hadn't we?" Her heart racing like a runaway train, she nodded mutely and slid her hand into his, grateful for his assistance; her legs were shaking so badly that she feared it would have taken her all night to stand on her own. Once she'd steadied a bit, she grabbed the tail of her damp T-shirt and began to pull it over her head, but Loki's fingers closed around her wrists. "No. Let me."

Swallowing back the anxiety that had risen in the back of her throat, Mercy nodded, her skin on fire as he peeled off her shirt, tossing it carelessly to the floor. She felt exposed and vulnerable, but somehow not cheap, as she'd been expecting. No, the way his eyes blazed when he saw revealed skin and sought to pull her close made her feel valuable, as if she'd been dusted with gold. Warmed hands slid up her back, dexterous fingers unclasping her bra in a matter of seconds. Vaguely, she wondered where he'd learned to unfasten a bra so quickly, but the sensation of the straps sliding from her shoulders banished that thought with a whispery groan. As the flimsy fabric contraption fell to the ground, color seeped into her cheeks, flushing down her neck and across her chest. Mercy crossed her arms over her breasts and looked away from him, her shyness outwinning her bravery. "Sorry, I-"

A finger pressed gently to her lips effectively hushed her. "It's alright, my pet." That finger trailed across the corner of her mouth, traced the curve of her jaw, then curled under her chin, enticing her to turn her face back to him. "There's no need to hide yourself." Golden-green eyes fluttered nervously as she felt his lips at her ear, carrying his honeyed words in a rush of warm breath. "Let me see you."

The friction of his palms sliding gradually down her arms was strangely soothing, his fingers loosely circling her wrists like the kindest of shackles; they didn't pull, but eased, urging her to lower them. And, slowly, she did. Loki leaned back and let his eyes wander down the curve of her throat, across the plane of her chest and further to where her bosom began to swell. Arousal shot through him like liquid fire at the sight of her bare breasts, full and soft and begging to be kissed. He let out a long-held breath, a moan escaping as his eyes darkened, like clouds before a storm. "You look absolutely ravishing."

Instead of an embarrassed red, her cheeks were stained a pleased pink. "Thank you," she whispered. Suddenly emboldened by his obvious approval of her body, she lifted her chin, the coy smile returning to her full lips. "But you haven't seen all of me yet."

His grin had a predatory cast to it as his fingers sank into her hips, pulling her against him. Loki found that he liked this more brazen side of her, enjoyed watching the shy creature melt into the smoldering temptress he knew was lurking somewhere inside her. It delighted him to no end that he was the first to see her like this, and that he would be the first to discover the rest of her many facets. "This shall have to be remedied, pretty." She arched against him as he teased his thumbs beneath the waistband of her black cotton shorts. Making maddeningly slow progress, Loki eased them down her legs, kneeling as he went. The drum-beat of her heart fell out of rhythm as she looked down and saw his grinning face level with her hips, and a fluttery sort of panic turned in her stomach; was this how a cornered rabbit felt as she stared into the eyes of the hungry fox? With a gasp, Mercy became heart-stoppingly aware that the only thing that kept her from being completely naked was a thin piece of cotton. Heat bloomed between her legs, and it was all she could do not to press her thighs together as Loki slipped his fingers beneath the elastic of her panties. In an almost instantaneous movement, he pulled them from her, and her sharp intake of breath exactly matched his. Forest-green eyes were ravenous as he drank in the sight of her bare form, so deliciously close. "Beautiful," he breathed.

Mercy swallowed hard, her brows furrowing just the slightest bit. "Do…do you really think so?"

"Of course I do," he muttered, placing an open-mouthed kiss on her hip, nimble hands sliding up the backs of her thighs to grip the sweetly rounded swell of her backside. "You're stunning."

Mercy whimpered helplessly as his lips pressed to her skin over and over, soft wet kisses that left her shivering and aching. If not for Loki's hold on her, she would have collapsed to the ground. This was the first time anyone had ever seen her like this, bare of clothing and stripped of coherent thought, and it frightened her as much as it thrilled her. Despite the lust and longing that was unmistakable in his caress, her doubt lingered. Did he mean it when he said she was beautiful, or was he simply telling her what she wanted to hear in order to ensure her willingness? He was known for being a liar, but perhaps in some small way, she mattered enough for him to tell the truth. As his mouth pressed higher, the tip of his tongue teasing the rim of her navel, her worries slipped to the back of her mind to be dealt with later. Now was not the time for thought. Now was the time for sensation, for touch and taste and sound.

She twisted her fingers deep in his inky black hair as Loki's kisses trailed up her body, bringing him back to his feet. Mercy wound her arms around his neck and aligned her body with his, her body on fire and craving the coolness of his skin to quench it. At last, at last he swept her breasts into his hands, squeezing gently, sighing against her neck at the warm weight of them. A silken moan thrummed against his lips as he kissed her throat, teasingly circling his thumbs over her nipples, his body tightening as he memorized their texture. Both of them were lost, drowning in the _terra incognita_ of the other's body with no desire to be rescued. Mercy barely registered being in motion even as Loki backed her up and pressed her into a wall, threading his hands in her hair as his body pinned her in place. Her breath caught as his knee nudged at her thighs, urging her to open them. Her blood roared in her ears as he rubbed against her, her muscles taut as piano wire, coiled like springs. She was helpless, breathless, consumed with a need so fierce that she feared it would incinerate her. Mercy clawed at his back, her nails catching on his shirt, pleading with him to understand just how badly she wanted him to touch her. Just one touch, and the ache would cease. One touch, and she would be soothed.

"Loki…oh God, _please…_"

With a lustful growl, Loki pulled one hand from her hair, trailing his fingers down her neck, skimming the side of her breast, down her side, and finally sliding them between her legs. Mercy gave a cry of relief as she was touched, arching deliciously against him as he stroked her. Her breath came faster and faster as he murmured to her, his voice a low, seductive rumble in her ear. "I'd prefer to get you to a bed first, but I just can't wait." One slender finger curved against her, dipping into her core, and he gave a velvety chuckle. "Judging by how wet you are, I daresay you can't wait either." Loki continued to pleasure her, flicking her clit with his thumbnail as criminally long fingers teased her entrance, slipping inside just far enough to send a tingle along her nerves before withdrawing. She writhed, trying to raise her hips, to catch his finger, to do _something_, but he had he pinned between the unyielding wall and the hard length of his body, still so unfairly clothed. The blood pounding in her ears drowned out the sounds she made, the gasps and moans and whispers of his name, the breathless pleas for more. Loki, however, heard them all. They sunk into him, seared into his memory like an indelible brand. With a groan, he buried his face in the silken spill of her hair, breathing the sweet smell into his lungs; he wanted to be able to recall the small, soft things about her years from now.

His fingers moved faster, urging her toward climax, his middle finger sliding deep within her at last. Mercy arched, tossing her head back and baring her neck to his restless kisses and stroking tongue, so close to the edge, her toes curling in anticipation as Loki's teeth grazed her ear. His silvery voice whispered filthy things to her as he basked in the warmth of her body, like a live flame that burned but did not consume. Loki pictured all the different shapes he could twist that lithe body into, imagined the keening he would hear when he finally entered her, envisioned how she would look spread out beneath him. He wanted to indulge her slowly, take her hard and fast, pleasure her so thoroughly that no other man would ever satisfy her. Just for this one night, he wanted her to belong to him; body, mind, and heart. His teeth scraping her pulse, he murmured, "Unwind for me, little one. Let go."

His finger crooked within her, touched something that sent sparks shooting up her spine, and suddenly something burst. Mercy let out a breathless scream as pleasure, white-hot and tremulous, seized her body and circulated like poison. His name may have been wrenched from her as she reached her peak, but the only name she could hear was her own as Loki whispered it possessively. Like he was naming something he wanted to keep. Her knees shook, then buckled; her bones felt like water, her muscles like unfurled ribbons. "Oh my God…"

Loki's arm curled around her, holding her upright. "Shaken, are we?" He smiled, and the touch of his lips on her cheek was soft, almost chaste.

Her eyelids fluttered as she struggled to remember how to speak in full sentences. "Loki…that was…oh God, that was…" Mercy searched for a word, swallowing hard. "Magnificent."

"I'm pleased that you found it so," he chuckled, brushing a wayward strand of hair back behind her ear. "Was that your first orgasm?"

Her cheeks flushing pink, she slowly shook her head. "No…I mean, just because I haven't had sex yet doesn't mean I don't want to…that I don't think about it." Mercy looked away from him, obviously embarrassed. "But I've never…let go like that before. I've always been guarded." She swallowed, chewing on her slightly kiss-swollen lip. "I guess I was scared of what would happen if I didn't restrain myself."

"Darling girl, pleasure is nothing to be afraid of," he hummed, his thumbs swirling along her sides as he pulled her against him. "If that's truly what you believe, then I shall have to give you a thorough education on real pleasure and how freeing it can be."

The thought alone made her shiver, heat curling in her lower abdomen, and she found the strength to raise her arms and wind them around his neck. "I look forward to your lessons, Professor." With a grin like mischief itself, Loki bent and gathered her up in his arms, earning himself a squeal of surprise. "What are you doing?"

"Taking you to bed," he answered confidently. "Your legs are a bit unsteady, and we can't have you falling and breaking that pretty neck, can we?" Loki loved the sound of her laughter, like the sweet chiming of bells in the morning air. "Now, if you'll kindly direct me to the bedroom?"

Mercy stomach gave an odd sort of flip, and her grip tightened around his neck. "Um…down the hall, second door on the right." A sudden rush of nerves overcame her, and she was so lost within her own thoughts that she didn't seem to see the hall as Loki carried her down it. It wasn't him she was afraid of; he'd already proven that he could be trusted not to hurt her. She was assured that he had only her well-being in mind. No, her anxiety stemmed from a lack of faith in herself and her own abilities. She'd read her fair share of tawdry romance novels and dime-store eroticas, so she knew the basics of how sex worked. However, she understood that real life was much different, that making love couldn't be accurately portrayed no matter how skilled an author was. Would it hurt? Was she supposed to undress him? How was she supposed to move with him on top of her? What if she couldn't satisfy him? All of these doubts tugged at her mind, yanking in all different directions, like dogs fighting over a chewed piece of rope as Loki somehow managed to open her bedroom door without letting go of her.

Deep green eyes swept over the room as he entered. There were a few articles of clothing on the floor, but it was otherwise tidy, and in the air still lingered the smoky perfume of incense. The walls were painted a sweet shade of lavender, the few pieces of unmatched furniture made of dark, polished wood, and a floor lamp glowed softly in the corner, dimly lighting the space. Her bed was bigger than he expected it to be for one who lived alone; the comforter was folded at the foot, pillows were piled at the head, and the sheets were a stunning deep violet in color, soft and cool as he laid her down on them. Loki stared down at her as she sunk into the mattress, and the sight of her creamy pale skin, lush curves, cinnamon-colored curls, and vibrant green eyes against the sheets made his heart stop for a moment. She was a vision. As if he couldn't help himself, as if he had to convince himself that this was real, he skimmed his fingertips down her cheek, smiling as he committed every delectable detail to memory. "You're so lovely."

Petals of color bloomed beneath his touch as she blushed. "Thanks." Her eyes met his briefly, then slid down his neck to his chest, as if she were afraid to look at him too long. A slight crease appeared between her brows as she stared at him, and Loki experienced a flicker of doubt before dawning comprehension made him grin. Sitting back, he climbed off the bed and stood over her, his eyes glued to her as she sat up.

"Do you want to see me, Mercy?"

Smiling gratefully, she nodded. "Yes, please." Mercy watched with anticipation, getting to her feet as Loki removed his shirt, tossing it carelessly aside. Her breath caught in her throat as she feasted on the sight of his bare torso, her knees going slightly weak. He was lean but well-toned, narrow shoulders that tapered to a slender waist. A dancer's body, she thought, biting her lip as her eyes traced every defined line of muscle in his arms and chest. Hardly daring to breathe, she drew closer, raising her hand with an unspoken question written boldly across her face. Loki nodded, and at last, she touched him, her fingers exploring his pale skin with the timid gentleness of a virgin. Her palms pressed flat against his chest, and she stepped into him, stretching up to place a feather-light kiss on his neck. Loki sighed, his eyes dropping closed as his head fell back. How long had it been since a woman had touched him this way, kissed him without fear, held him because she wanted to and not because she was instructed to? For the first time in a lifetime, the dark-haired prince felt wanted-actually _wanted._ Not for his status in the palace or for his powerful magic, not for titles or favors, but simply because she liked him, despite his insurmountable flaws. Somehow, this simple human girl had wound her way past the veneers and smokescreens he surrounded himself with, saw the bare, ugly truth of what he really was, and wanted him just the same. With a gentleness he was unaware he possessed, he petted her hair as she left burning kisses across his chest. To her, this little, unremarkable woman, he was worthy. And somehow, just this small acceptance meant more than the world.

He was yanked rather unceremoniously from his thoughts as he felt the soft glide of her hand down his stomach. "Um…is it okay if I…?" Mercy trailed off, perhaps too embarrassed to continue her thought, but the splay of her fingers at his waistband was enough.

Loki nodded, a small smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Please do." His head tipped back slightly as she tugged at his pants, letting them slide to the floor and pulling them away as he stepped out of them. Her eyes started at his feet, traveling slowly up his powerful legs, and Loki grinned as he heard her sharp intake of breath, her gaze finally reaching his length. "Impressive, am I not?"

Her throat worked, as if her reply was suddenly stuck in her vocal cords. "It's…God, you're huge." These words were whispered under her breath, as if she were afraid to speak out loud. Fear twisted at her insides; how on earth was that supposed to fit inside of her? Shaking all over, she got to her feet, unsure of where to look or what to do with her hands. This was all so terrifyingly new, and she just couldn't determine where to start. Thankfully, Loki took control and pulled her into his arms, his lips reassuring, soothing. Mercy looped her arms around his waist and settled against him as their tongues met, sighing as she calmed. His hardness was pressed insistently against her leg, and the urge to feel it in her hand swept over her, leaving her weak. Her hands once again found their way to his hips as she broke the kiss, rolling her head back as Loki's mouth traveled to her throat. "Loki…can I, um…" She tried to find the words, but the realization of what she was asking had left her unable to speak. If not for the blush that burned bright in her cheeks, she might not have been able to convey her wish at all. Loki grabbed her wrist, raising her hand to his mouth and pressing a kiss into her palm before guiding it to his length, a sensuous smile curved on his thin lips.

"You need not be afraid, little one. Touch me as you please."

She stiffened at first, the sensation foreign and strange, but she soon relaxed and allowed her fingers to wrap around him. Mercy struggled to breathe, her heart beating a tattoo against her ribs. The heat of his flesh in her hand surprised her, and she gave it a soft, experimental squeeze. This earned her a quiet groan, and that small sound of pleasure spurred her on, gave her a warm surge of confidence. Guided by instinct, she began stroking him, her rhythm clumsy and hesitant at first, but at his gentle urging, she gained speed. Each sound he made was a small victory, every shiver that passed through him a tiny triumph. She grew bold, more confident in her actions and her ability to please him, and an idea crept into mind, a smirk slowly curling on her lips. At the sight, Loki smiled and slid one finger up her throat, tipping her head back.

"You have mischief in your eyes, my pet."

Her silvery little laugh hung in the air, and for once, she didn't look away when he met her gaze directly. "Well…there's something I want to try." Retreating slightly back into the pretense of being shy, she bit at her lip, searching for the permission to continue in his eyes. His fingertips gentle against her cheek, he nodded, anticipation mounting at what she had in store for him. White, slightly crooked teeth gleamed in the semi-darkness, and she sat on the edge of her bed, patting the space beside her. Curiously, Loki sat down, and it felt as though the air had been suddenly drawn from the room as she slid off the bed and onto her knees before him. Her hands were light on his thighs as she urged his legs apart, wiggling between them. Her head bent to his chest, her lips so warm against his skin, and he leaned back, murmuring words of praise and encouragement. Mercy sighed as his long fingers wove into her hair, his thumb skimming over her pulse. This was so unlike her, this craving to touch and taste, to hear him groan. Mercy wanted to see him lose himself, to do to him what he'd done to her. She yearned to hear him cry out her name in pleasure. Perhaps it was a selfish desire, but after years of putting everyone else's needs above her own, she felt she had earned the right to be a little selfish. Besides, intuition told her that Loki wouldn't mind too much. Her mouth trailed over his stomach, her lips pressed to his skin as she sank further down. When she could go no further, she gathered her courage, held her breath, and slowly ran her tongue over his straining length.

Loki's cry was sharp, pulled from his lungs in a rush of air as his hands fisted in the sheets. The heat of her mouth was intense, the velvet softness of her tongue maddening. His pale chest heaved as he fought to control his breathing, while inwardly, he marveled at the strange melting sensation. Her inexperience was obvious, but somehow, the clumsy kisses and irregular caresses only fanned the flames that leapt in his belly. With a sense of wonder, he felt himself trembling as she took him into her mouth; the sight of those lush lips wrapping around him was nearly his undoing. "Good girl," he whispered, his voice low so that a tremor would not betray him. Tugging gently on her curls, he urged her to look up at him, needing to see her, to see himself reflected in her eyes. To his great relief and joy, he saw her staring back at him, her eyes not glassy with mindless lust but bright with desire for him. Loki uttered an oath in an old language as pleasure spiked with power coursed through him, his body shuddering under the continued onslaught. Soon, too soon it seemed, he approached the point of no return, and though he was loathe to do it, he tugged gently on her hair, pulling her away from him. "That's enough now, darling."

Mercy panted a bit, licking her lips and smiling as she climbed back up beside him, movements sinuous and teasing. "God, you taste good." As she savored the taste of him on her tongue, drawing her legs up and sitting cross-legged, she mused that it was a good thing he had the presence of mind to pull her away. She might have continued all night if he hadn't. There was such an unfamiliar hunger in her, some primal yearning he'd awoken deep within her soul. If she was honest, it was a bit overwhelming, but she was nothing if not curious, and she wanted to see where exactly it would take her.

Intrigued by the fire crackling in her eyes, Loki grinned and reached over to turn her face to his, running his thumb over her slightly swollen lips. "Not half as good as you taste, I'd wager." A sly gleam pinwheeled in his stare as he drank in how her eyes widened, a small gasp whispering across his fingers. Her body seemed to clench, to tense as the suggestion of how exactly he could taste her ran away with her imagination. Loki shifted so that his body was facing her, rocking up onto his knees. "That excites you, doesn't it?" He leaned forward, sliding a hand behind her head as he pressed her back, lying her down. "Imagining how my tongue would feel dancing between those lovely legs."

Fire blazed in her veins, sparks racing through her blood as she looked up at him and watched his famed tongue trace over his lips, as if the thought of using it on her made his mouth water. Heat rushed between her legs as she nodded, unable to deny how much she wanted this, wanted him. Inch by inch, she relaxed into the sheets, her skin hyper-sensitive to texture as she shifted against them, feeling each thread slide against her bare back. Loki's weight settled over her, pressing her down but never too oppressive, comforting rather than restraining. Even though everything was bared between them, he managed to make her feel safe and protected. Her touch was soft, adoring as she pressed her hand to his cheek, fingertips skating across smooth skin and tangling in the hair that fell across the back of his neck. He kissed her lips once, brief and sweet and gentle, before his mouth pressed down her neck. Mercy's spine arched as his lips-once cold but now scorching-neared the swells of her breasts. There was a soft sound, a breathless moan, and then his tongue dragged slowly across her nipple. His fingers wrapped around her wrists, pinning them up above her head as he lavished attention on her breasts, thoroughly enjoying the way she squirmed beneath him. She'd fantasized about what this might feel like, if she'd like it or not, but every fantasy paled in comparison to the reality of his slowly swirling tongue.

Mercy swallowed hard as his warm lips pressed into the valley between her breasts before slowly laying a trail of kisses down her stomach. Her skin tensed and quivered beneath his touch, her breath coming faster as her heart raced like a spooked horse. Soft lashes brushed her cheeks as she closed her eyes, focusing her senses on the sensation of his mouth on her hips, of his hands sliding up her thighs, thumbs circling against the inner surface as he pushed them apart. A whisper of breath on her earned a breathless moan in response, her muscles tensed in anticipation at the graze of his lips across the juncture of hip and thigh. Loki waited, heightening the moment, savoring how obvious she ached for him. As slowly as possible, he lowered his sleek head and ran his tongue up her silken folds, groaning softly.

"Oh!"

Lightning arced through her, snapping and crackling along her nerves, wiping lucid thought from her mind; that single swipe of his tongue had all but driven her mad. Loki looked quite pleased with himself at her reaction, and he laid one arm across her hips, pinning them down as he repeated the action over and over in long strokes and teasing flicks. Reflexively, she tried to close her legs, but Loki would have none of it, hooking her knees over his shoulders as he continued his onslaught. Mercy bucked and writhed helplessly under his mouth, moaning and whispering his name.

The god didn't quite understand how it was possible for him to want her more than he already did, but as the taste of her was etched into him, he felt the desire for her double within him. Beneath his hands, she was relaxed and open. She muttered his name, begged him not to stop, breathlessly exclaimed how good he was making her feel. In this moment, she was his completely. She had surrendered to him, and because of that, he wanted to do more than simply pleasure her. He wanted to devour her, swallow her and keep her with him always. A dangerous wish with so vulnerable a girl, but even now, he wasn't one to deny himself. Loki smirked against her as she stiffened, her toes curling as he brought her to the edge of release. He gave one hard suck, and she was lost, pleasure bursting hotly within her, rolling like the tides though her bloodstream. She screamed, her hands buried in the black strands of his hair, her back arching so severely that Loki had to grab onto her hip to keep her against his tongue. Eventually, the blinding pleasure faded, and she collapsed against the sheets, panting and swallowing and looking completely unraveled. Loki raised his head with a victorious grin on his face, licking his lips. "I would ask if you enjoyed that, but your actions speak for themselves."

Mercy laughed breathlessly, disentangling her fingers from his hair and patting his cheek. "Oh, Loki…I never knew…" Her eyes closed as her cheeks bloomed with color, somehow still embarrassed. "I never knew I could feel that good."

Loki laid down beside her, stroking her cheek as she calmed. "Oh darling, that was just a taste of what is yet to come." Long fingers idly twisted a lock of her hair, and he smiled when her hand found his, her fingers weaving shyly between his. Still so innocent, so child-like in some aspects, desiring a simple touch, a uncomplicated connection. It warmed him, and he kissed her hair, grateful to her for the little things she was most likely unaware meant so much to him. Keeping her hand firmly within his, he rolled over her, staring down at this small human woman who had captured him. Loki caught his breath at the sight of her; her curls were spread across the pillow, her cheeks flushed and her rosy lips parted, chest rising and falling peacefully, eyes half-lidded and dreamy. It was the look of a woman in pure ecstasy, and knowing that he was the only one who had ever put this expression on her face, that he was the only person in existence to see her like this made him realize how precious this moment was. Mercy was sacrificing part of herself for him; she was offering him part of her just so he would know, for once in his life, what love felt like. She was trusting him with more than just her body, but with her heart. Her warm, tender heart that saw through the bars of his plight, saw him for what he really was, and ached for him. His expression was blank as he ran his fingertips down her cheek, the touch so light he could barely feel the warmth of her skin. He knew that she trusted him, that she had put her faith in him. But was that enough? Could he trust himself the way she did? Would he be able to take her body and leave her heart whole and undamaged? Or would his evil stain her innocence? Would he be strong enough to endure the pain and accusation in her eyes if he failed to protect her from himself?

Mercy's eyebrows furrowed; Loki had gone from sensuous and sweet to a million miles away in a second. He stared at her, his eyes never wavering, but they were clouded, not seeing her at all. Softly, hesitant to pull him out of his thoughts, she put her hand on his cheek, skimming her thumb over his lips. "Loki?"

As if snapped out of a trance, his eyes came back into focus, and he at last saw the concern etching lines on her face. He leaned into her palm, as if to assure her that he heard her. "Yes?"

"Are you alright? I kind of lost you for a second there."

Loki gave her a small smile and lightly kissed the cup of her palm. "Yes, I'm alright. I was simply lost in thought." Why trouble her with his storm of worries?

"Must have been some pretty deep thoughts." Her fingers tightened between his, a gentle, affectionate squeeze. "What were you thinking about?"

Touched as he was that she was still putting his welfare above her own, he couldn't tell her. He couldn't lay his burdens on her; the weight of his doubts would crush her. Instead, he leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead, his words feathering against her skin as he whispered. "Are you certain that this is still what you want?" Loki straightened and stared down at her, green eyes searching, seeking any trace of fear or panic. "If you wish to stop-"

Mercy lunged up and kissed him, stealing the breath from his lungs and the words from his mouth. Her lips and tongue were insistent, pleading, almost desperate for him, as if she couldn't bear to hear him finish that sentence. Her hands cupped his face between them, slender legs wrapping around his hips and pulling him close. For once, it was Loki who stiffened in surprise, taken aback by her sudden surge of passion. As the kiss broke, she trailed her lips across his cheeks, his nose, his jawline and chin, his forehead. Claiming him with her mouth. "Don't. Don't you dare say that. I'm in this, no matter what." She threaded her fingers into his hair, clinging to him so fiercely, as if he might vanish in an instant. "I don't want an excuse. I don't want an out. I want _you_. Loki, I want you more than I've ever wanted anything in my entire life, and there's no way in hell I'm backing out now." Her eyes were bright, shining with ardent, fervent passion. "Whatever you're worried about, it can wait. I need you here with me now." Mercy buried her face in the crook of his neck, her words muffled and warm against his skin. "Please, Loki. I need you."

The outcast prince felt the unfamiliar but somehow not unwelcome sting of tears, accompanied by a strange, dull ache deep in his chest. Was this what unconditional love felt like? To be held and kissed and told that he was wanted, needed; that he was valued. That despite his scars and stubbornness, despite his evil, she would still want his heart. Was this how it felt to be cherished? Loki crushed her to him, fearful that if he let her warmth away from him for only a second, she would cease to be real. A thousand years could pass before he understood how this young woman had melted the ice around his broken heart, but the fact remained that she had, and there was no word in any of the various languages he spoke that would convey the depth of his gratitude properly.

Instead, he kissed her, his hands plunging deep into her hair as he urged her to taste the reverence on his lips. Mercy made a soft noise, caught somewhere between a sigh and a moan, and automatically spread her legs beneath him, drawing her knees up his sides. With barely a hitch in the angle of his kiss, Loki reached down and ran his hand up her thigh, guiding himself to her entrance as she wound her legs around his waist. Mercy's calm shattered with a gasp as she felt the blunt tip of him rubbing against her. This was it; the point of no return. After this, everything would be different. Both of them would be changed; for the better, she hoped. It was a scary thought, but the touch of his mouth at her cheek and the solid warmth of his hand cradling hers soothed her fears. A slight arch of the hips signaled that she was ready for him, that it was now or never, and Loki lowered his head to brush his lips against her ear. "Hold on, Mercy."

Her grip tightened as slowly, so slowly, he pushed inside of her, a strangled moan wrenched from him as her tight, slick heat closed around him. He'd taken a woman's virginity many times, but never had he seemed to fit so well, never had it been so right.

Mercy whimpered softly, burying her face in his shoulder as she was stretched. If Loki looked big, it was nothing compared to how he felt inside of her. It didn't hurt nearly as bad as she was anticipating, but it was still uncomfortable, at least for the moment. Even through the pain, she felt the wondrous sensation of being filled, of feeling complete and whole for the first time in her life. He was so warm, so solid, so utterly perfect that she wondered if he had been designed just for her. She trembled with joy, with longing, with anxiety and passion, her legs tightening around him to beckon him deeper still. When he stopped, he struck something within her, and stars burst unexpectedly across her vision. Her gasp was quick and sharp, a mixture of surprise and pleasure.

Loki caught the sound, but mistook it for one of discomfort, and murmured, "Forgive me."

Mercy's brow furrowed. "For what?"

"For causing you pain."

Fervently, she shook her head. "No, no, no. That, what you just did…that felt amazing." She smiled and reached up to curl her fingers in his hair. "If we're going to do this, you can't be on tenterhooks all the time. You have to let go a little bit. Trust me, I'll tell you if you're hurting me, but I don't think that's going to be a problem." She wriggled beneath him, rolling her hips, grinning as he moaned. "Keep going. Please. You feel so good."

There was an aching moment of hesitation before Loki surrendered his control with a deep groan, finally rocking his hips, his strokes fast and deep. Mercy's head flew back as shockwaves of pleasure sizzled through her, flames leaping in her lower belly. His eyes were warm and adoring as they swept over her, watching and absorbing every detail as she writhed. One large hand slid over her breast, kneading it gently as he rubbed slow, teasing circles around the taut nipple. She gasped out his name, the two syllables bursting with longing and desire, with faith and hope, that single word as full as her heart. Loki lowered his mouth to her neck, his lips soft as they skimmed her pulse, a shiver rippling through her as he tenderly licked the sensitive patch of skin behind her ear. Moaning encouragements, she stroked his hair back from his forehead, her fingers winding in the midnight-black strands. It was soft, though a bit tangled; she could have run her fingers through it all night.

A silvered tongue whispered endearments in a language she couldn't identify as Loki slid his hand from her breast down her side and to her hip, reaching behind to grab a handful of her backside, lifting her up. "Move with me, darling." Nodding, she did so, following his gentle instructions and rocking her hips against his. Their moans were a perfect octave apart as he slid deeper, new friction creating stars that burst into constellations in their veins. This was a unique moment for the both of them, this action of opening up so completely. They were both student and teacher, learning and experiencing as they went. They learned to trust, to give and receive, to let go of the past and live only in each other. Loki marveled at how easy it was to let his guard down around her, to open up his heart to her. Before, making love had only been about satisfaction, about release; a mindless beckoning of lust that left both participants sated but empty. With her, however, it was deeper. Meaningful. It wasn't about achieving his orgasm, or even achieving hers. This was an act of faith, of acceptance. She wanted so desperately to prove to him that he wasn't a monster, that he could be kind and gentle. That he could find the goodness in himself he'd believed had died long ago. She held nothing back from him, denied him nothing. Respect. Affection. Trust. _Love._ Everything he'd been without, he saw shining up at him in her eyes.

Mercy mewled helplessly against his chest as he changed the angle of his thrusts, muscles bunching and loosening as they twisted against each other. There was nothing in this world she would have traded this moment for, everything else meant nothing compared to the weight of his arms around her. This was so much more than sex, though that in and of itself was phenomenal. No, this was deeper than common physical indulgence. This was the kind of healing, gentle lovemaking you only read about in stories. The kind of connection she'd never thought she would have. Time and time again, she had been told unfairly and untruthfully that she was not worth loving, that she was not worth the time and effort it took to get inside her heart. Not in words, perhaps, but in deeds. People saw the generous heart she wore out on her sleeve, and knew a doormat when they saw one. Those she called "friends" had wrung from her whatever they could; money, time, her willingness to listen. It was all too easy to tell that she would never say no. When they'd gotten what they needed from her, when she was exhausted of whatever resource they needed, they'd left with barely a parting word. It was the reason she lived on her own, with no close friends to speak of. In the nights, she whispered to the darkness that she liked isolation, liked being alone where no one could hurt her, but the words were empty. Deep in the depths of her soul, she knew that she wasn't meant to live this way. Mercy had so much love to give, and her bruised heart cried out for someone to take it, to accept it and think it precious. As she ran her nails down Loki's back, she wondered if maybe she had found that person, unbelievable as it may be. Loki was someone who needed love, who had been so long without it that he felt undeserving of it, and she was desperate to prove him wrong. And now, as he held her and kissed her so gently that it made her heart ache, she understood why she had decided to give herself to him. Perhaps both of them had been broken, but the shattered pieces could be re-forged, fused together with only the seams to show that they'd once been apart. Maybe they could find the strength to repair themselves in the love that they created between them.

Slender legs wound tight around narrow hips as Mercy felt a tightening I her stomach. She was loathe for it to end so soon, but she couldn't have told him to slow down even if she could find the breath to do so. Her lips traced the outer shell of his ear as she whispered to him, her lover. "Oh Loki…oh, don't stop, please…"

The prince's large hand cradled the back of her head, holding her to him as their movements became frantic, losing rhythm and tempo. Loki could feel Mercy's body tightening, heard the volume of her moans increasing, and with great effort, he slowed himself, easing them both back down from the heights. To his amusement, Mercy whined at him, grabbing his hips and trying to urge him to move faster, but he closed his hands around her wrists, pulling her arms up over her head. "No." His gentle smile pressed to the crease between her eyes, the kiss smoothing out the lines. "I'm not done with you yet." Reassured, she relaxed inch by inch, sliding her hands over his muscled back, the ridges of his shoulder blades, and down his arms, taking the time to fully appreciate the texture of his skin. Eyes as warm as a spring afternoon gazed blissfully, wondrously up at him.

"You're beautiful, you know that?" She almost laughed at the skeptic arch of his brow. "You are."

Loki touched his mouth to hers in a tender gesture, winding his fingers through her hair. "If you could see yourself right now, you wouldn't think so."

Her smile fell like a leaf fluttering to the ground, and the laughter died out of her voice as she whispered, "If you say so."

A slight crumple of the brow betrayed his curious confusion. "You don't think yourself beautiful?"

Mercy shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "It's not a big deal. I've just…I've never been that girl. No one's ever told me that I was pretty, or beautiful, or…" She trailed off, averting her gaze as if ashamed. "I just never saw myself that way. I mean, no one else did, so why should I?" There was a soft, humorless huff of laughter. "That must seem really shallow, I'm sorry."

Loki's heart began to ache for her. No one had valued her before, no one had ever treated her like she was someone precious. No one had seen her worth. He cupped her face between his hands, stroking his thumbs over her cheeks, trying to soothe the hurt he could see flickering in the back of her eyes. "You are beautiful." She made to look away, but he gave her a mild shake. "Look at me, Mercy. I need you to hear this." Her eyes flickered back to his, but they were guarded, not as luminous as before. "You are gentle, and kind, and generous. There is an overwhelming depth of compassion in you. You can heal with the simplest of words and the lightest of touches." He kissed her forehead, the touch loving and lingering. "If that is not beautiful, then nothing is."

Mercy expected to feel tears prickling in her eyes, but there was nothing. She was too blissful to cry. That this man, this god, should find her beautiful not because of her appearance, but because of her deeds, was more than she had ever dared to hope for. Though it seemed impossible, their embrace became even closer, limbs so tightly tangled that they appeared inextricable, two pieces of a long-forgotten puzzle joined at last into one. The brief respite had calmed her, brought her down from her near orgasm, and Mercy gave a moan of relief as Loki began to move within her again. His kisses were restless and soft, gentle presses against her neck, shoulders, chest and breasts. In turn, she leaned up and kissed his throat before bringing his hand to her mouth, pressing her lips to his palm and the tips of his long fingers. The world could have fallen down around them, every realm burned to ashes, and neither would have given it a second thought. All they were concerned with was the new worlds they'd found in each other. Loki's strokes were deep and sure, and soon both of them tensed, pleasure tuning the wires of their muscles taut, their bodies crying out for completion. Mercy shrieked his name through gritted teeth, certain she would die if this exquisite agony continued. There was the grounding touch of lips at her ear before Loki uttered in a strained whisper, "Let go, my love." His arm slid around her waist, lifting her against him, their bodies flush and trembling. "Fall with me."

With one last powerful thrust, Mercy flew apart; her body felt as though it was unraveling around him. Her vision faded into white, yet still she saw his face. Sounds disappeared, yet she heard him cry her name in a voice that would put the sweetest music to shame.

Loki tossed his head back in wild abandon as pleasure unlike anything he'd felt before rushed through his veins like some strange narcotic he could never have enough of. Springs creaked and metal squealed; he wondered if her bed was sturdy enough to withstand the force of their simultaneous orgasms. Almost uncontrollably, he found himself muttering words in old tongues, archaic dialects that had died out long ago, praising her beauty, her body, her heart and her soul. Coward that he was, Loki told her how much she meant to him in words that she would never understand. Mercy sank back into the mattress, sighing and panting as her body rippled with aftershocks, smiling sleepily as Loki settled down with her, trembling with exertion. There was so much she wanted to say, but it seemed that she had temporarily lost her ability to speak.

The young prince noted her silence and rolled onto his side next to her, propping his head up so he could look down at her. "Are you alright? You're very quiet."

Mercy smiled and tiredly reached up to touch his face. "We've just had the most amazing sex in the entire world, and you're seriously asking if I'm okay?" She laughed. "I'm fantastic, thanks for asking." Loki chuckled softly, then rolled onto his back, stretching out deliciously sore muscles as Mercy turned to lay her head on his chest, tucking one arm beneath her and draping the other over his waist. "How about you? You doing okay?"

He nodded and brushed his lips over her hair, wrapping an arm around her. "Yes." After a few silent moments in which he committed to memory the comforting warmth of her soft body lying beside him, he kissed her forehead and whispered, "Thank you."

Her smile was sweet. "You have nothing to thank me for, sweetie." Lips that were still swollen from their passionate kisses pressed to his chest, his heart beating against them as if it were straining towards her mouth. She felt languid, sated, and sleepy, her limbs heavy, sore in all the right places. She wanted to make some strong tea, snuggle up against him and talk the sun up, but they were both exhausted, physically and emotionally. She glanced at the clock and saw that Loki had only been here for two and a half hours, and she had to bite back a noise of surprise. It have felt like only moments ago she had run outside in the downpour to tend to him, and yet she could swear that entire days had passed them by. She craved more time with him, was loathe to give him up, but she had a dreadful feeling she was going to wake up alone. After all, Loki didn't exactly seem the type to hang around. She supposed she couldn't really hold it against him; despite what he'd said, she knew she wasn't much of a reason to stay. Yet, deep down, even though she knew she was setting herself up to be let down, she hoped that he would. It was a foolish wish, spun in the depths of a heart that still dared to hope, but she could not speak that hope aloud, lest he dash it to pieces then and there. Hope didn't hurt as much when it was kept inside. Her thumb traced back and forth against his skin, and she breathed his smell into her lungs like a perfumed drug. "Just…promise me that you'll think of me sometimes, okay?"

Loki was stunned into silent paralysis for a few moments. Just how was he supposed to respond to that? Did she honestly think herself so forgettable after everything she'd sacrificed for him? Had she convinced herself that after all of this, she was still worth nothing? As much as he wished to tell her differently, she was quickly falling asleep, so he held his tongue and tangled his fingers in the ends of her long hair. "Go to sleep, my darling."

The human gave a small huff of protest, but her warm green eyes were already closed, her body relaxing as she succumbed to fatigue. Mercy clung to him like a child with a beloved toy, something to keep the bad dreams and boogeymen away, and just before she slipped into the welcoming darkness, she whispered three tiny words.

"I love you."

Loki lay in her bed, unmoving and silent, his thoughts racing. What had he done? Something had changed for her; she saw him differently now. Dear heavens, what damage had he wrought upon her? He meant more to her than he had anticipated, and though she claimed that she could give him love without falling in love, he feared that she had already begun that dreaded descent. And what then? Clearly she didn't expect him to stay with her, and Loki knew very well that he couldn't. Thor was searching for him, along with the rest of the Avengers and most of S.H.I.E.L.D. If she continued to give him shelter, she would be in danger. Mercy claimed not to care about the consequences, but he would not stand for her to be harmed or imprisoned on his account. Yet, if he left, what harm would that do to her? Would leaving her behind after whispering so tenderly that she was worthy only serve to salt the wounds she'd nursed for heaven only knew how long?

Instinctively, Loki knew that she would bear it in silence, that she would pretend his desertion wasn't devastating even as her heart broke. Would she blame herself? More than likely, he thought. He hated himself for having to leave her in such a state, but what else could he do? Her life would be better, fuller, without him. She could marry someone whole, someone who could love her the way she deserved to be loved. She could have children and start a family of her own. A serene smile curled his thin mouth as he imagined her soft body round with child, a plump-cheeked infant on her hip; a baby with her shining eyes and cinnamon curls. She would make a wonderful mother, and the stinging reality that he would never get to see it for himself caused a cold, empty ache in his chest. Loki could never see again after tonight, and he was surprised at how much this pained him, as if he missed her already. He wanted to be a part of her life with a fierce longing that he'd never known before. He wanted to see her smile when she saw him, to hear her laugh at his stories, to catch her tears when she wept, to hold her when she was frightened. The reality of his feelings struck him like a physical blow, slamming against his chest.

Perhaps he wasn't in love with this little human, but he was falling fast. Loki certainly couldn't recall feeling this fierce need to protect and care for a particular woman before. After everything, after the lies and betrayal, the pain and anger, he'd thought something as wholesome as love would be forever lost to him; he'd hardened his heart to it, left it behind as nothing but a forgotten dream. But in a few short hours, with kind words, open arms, and a warm heart, she had proved that that dream was not as forgotten as he'd believed. How could he leave her now, after she'd so carefully brought down the walls around his heart and made a home there? And after he'd so obviously, if not deliberately, done the same to her? Loki knew that if he was half the man she believed him to be, he would slip out of her life without a second glance. Mercy deserved someone better than him, someone who was good and kind, someone who was untarnished. But it was too late, he agonized. Her heart was already his. With all that she had done for him, he could not rip her heart away from her and leave her empty. He refused to do so.

XXX

Mercy woke regretfully from what was easily the deepest sleep of her entire life. No dreams had plagued her, no fitful bursts of sleep that left her waking every hour on the hour. For the first time in a long time, she'd slept through the night. A smile bloomed on her face before she even opened her eyes. _I should sleep with strangers more often,_ she thought before she could stop herself.

As quickly as it came, her smile fell. Loki was probably long gone by now, the bed made warm by their lovemaking now cold and empty, just as it was before he came into her life. Her chest ached, and she felt oddly deflated, as if the awareness of his absence had punctured the bliss he'd left behind. _It was good while it lasted_, she consoled herself half-heartedly, tears already stinging at her eyes. _But it's over now, so you need to just pick up the pieces and-_

A steady sound broke through her thoughts, a rhythmic thumping in her ear. It was coming from…from her pillow? She shifted slightly and became very aware of a heavy arm draped over her waist. That thumping was a heartbeat, and the pillow beneath her head was someone's chest; she could feel it now, the slight rise and fall of respiration. Holding her breath, hardly daring to hope that this was anything but a vivid dream, she finally opened her eyes. There was Loki, still cradling her in his arms, already awake and staring at her with plain, unashamed tenderness in his eyes. He looked even more handsome than he had last night, his face lit up with morning sunshine and his expression open and earnest. He seemed genuinely happy to see her.

"You're awake." Loki brushed his lips against her forehead, giving her an affectionate squeeze. "I trust you slept well, my love?"

"Loki…" Her voice was thick with sleep, and she reached up to touch his face, as if to reassure herself that he was real. Mercy pushed herself up so that their eyes were level, and in that shared gaze, they silently shared all that they had come to realize in their separate realms of sleep.

"You stayed." _I love you. I need you. I want to keep you safe. I trust you. To me, you are perfect. You healed me. I am yours._

"Yes." _I love you. I need you. I will never leave you. I will protect you. You are so beautiful. I adore you. You saved me. I am yours._

* * *

_Hope you enjoyed that! I certainly enjoyed writing it. Please leave me a review. Cheers! :D_


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